


the death of beauty

by ohkeiji



Series: BokuAka Week 2016 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, BokuAka Week, Insecurity, M/M, Makeup, also like 1 swear word, it's a bad mental health day for akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohkeiji/pseuds/ohkeiji
Summary: Keiji liked makeup until the lack of it made him feel like this.
(BokuAka Week Day 6: Insecurities)





	

**Author's Note:**

> just a warning: this is sad and pretty depressing and akaashi really isn't happy w/ himself so just a warning!!
> 
> and this is pretty much a dramatized version of my own bad mental health days, disclaimer that mental health is different for everyone!!

Keiji felt like he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he was missing.

 

It wasn’t until he was rummaging through his duffel bag after morning practice when he realized-- his makeup bag. He had forgotten his makeup bag.

 

“ _ Shit. _ ” Keiji swore, digging through his bag desperately in hopes he had just missed it, but nope; his makeup was nowhere to be seen.

 

Keiji tried to ignore the anxiety that settled down deep in his stomach, slowly setting his bag back on the bench and changing into his school uniform. His teammates hadn’t noticed his dilemma, and Keiji was hoping to keep it that way-- it was stupid to be upset over something as small as his concealer.

 

“Keiji, c’mon!” The younger boy jumped as his boyfriend wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to plant a kiss on his curls. “We’re gonna be late!”

 

Keiji leant into Koutarou’s broad frame, longing to simply hide out in the locker room for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way and he had a test first period, so Keiji allowed himself to be dragged away from the safe haven.

 

Keiji didn’t like how he looked without makeup. He had dark spots and freckles, and his eyes were too small, and he looked sick without it. But he didn’t usually think makeup was a bad thing; it made him feel more comfortable around his classmates, and more confident in general.

 

The school corridors felt sinister, and Keiji was unusually tense as he ducked out from under Koutarou’s arm. It felt like everyone in the building was staring at him, staring at his imperfections, that everyone was whispering about how  _ ugly _ he looked, and how could the ace of their volleyball team date someone so gross?

 

Keiji liked makeup until the lack of it made him feel like this.

 

“Hey, Keiji, you good?” Koutarou tilted his head to the side, and he looked like a cute little puppy, and Keiji felt a pang of envy deep inside of him.

 

“Fine. I just need to talk to my teacher.” Keiji spun away from his boyfriend and speed walked away, his fingers digging into the leather strap of his messenger bag.

 

He was used to the team seeing him without any makeup-- otherwise he’d just sweat off his foundation and stain his practice clothes. But it had taken him months to feel even somewhat comfortable with a bare face at practice, and his classmates? Keiji knew high schoolers could be ruthless, he didn’t want them to see him with no paint on his face. He didn’t want to hear them make snide comments, and didn’t want to see them pointing and laughing.

 

Keiji knew he was being irrational-- no one really cared, and even if someone noticed, they’d forget about it in a day. But Keiji knew a bad day would be coming up soon. The past two weeks or so had been good, with minimal anxiety, so it only made sense he’d have a bad day soon.

 

But Keiji really hated the bad days, he thought as he ducked into his empty classroom and sat at his desk.

 

He turned his head to look out the window a few rows over and quickly regretted it when his reflection glanced back at him for a moment. Keiji squeezed his eyes shut, heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, and nerves swam in his stomach as he pursed his lips and his teacher walked in.

* * *

 

“Um, Akaashi-san?” Keiji blinked, focusing on the girl who stood in front of his desk. His morning lessons had passed in a blur, and now it was his lunch break. Keiji’s mind and the content he was supposed to be learning had been repelling like the same poles of two magnets.

 

“Akaashi-san.” The girl spoke again, more sure of herself as Keiji came back to earth. (Sort of-- his head felt like it was filled with cement.) 

 

“Sorry.” Akaashi strained up in his seat, folding his hands together onto the desk and looking at the girl. She had short brown hair and blue eyes, with a few freckles. “Is there something you need, Akane-san?”

 

“Oh, Akane’s fine.” The girl smiled charmingly. Keiji noticed her teeth were crooked. That didn’t make her look any less cute, though. Keiji had perfectly straight teeth, but they didn’t make him feel any better about himself.

 

“Are you alright? You look sick.” Akane’s words made Keiji freeze momentarily in his seat. His mind went blank, and he hoped his response to Akane was coherent as he speedily stood and walked out of the classroom, his heart in his throat.

 

_ You look sick. You look sick. You look sick. _

 

Keiji wasn’t sure why that set him off-- he knew he looked tired and half dead when he wasn’t wearing makeup. But maybe that girl’s words had been the confirmation, the final piece of evidence to concluding that yes, Keiji  _ did _ look sick, he did look tired he did look  _ ugly _ .

 

He slammed the door open to the boy’s bathroom, thankful no one was occupying it as he walked over to the sinks, to the mirrors above the sinks, and he took in a deep breath before looking up and staring at his reflection.

 

Everything  _ bad _ stood out to him. Keiji didn’t need to list them, because his flaws were everything. His skin was bad, his eyes were bloodshot and small, his chin jutted out too far and was too pointy, he was too  _ sharp _ .

 

Keiji had to bite back a sob as he gripped the sides of the sink. He despised what he saw, but couldn’t bring himself to look away. Even the door opening didn’t make him look away, Keiji was too wrapped up in his mind.

 

“Keiji.” A firm hand on his shoulder made his eyes flicker up, and Keiji stared at Koutarou’s reflection.

 

“Koutarou.” Keiji’s voice was surprisingly even for being on the brink of tears. “You don’t deserve ugly.” His voice cracked at the end, and Keiji bit his lip so hard to keep from crying that he tasted blood.

 

Gently, as though he were handling a porcelain doll, Koutarou pulled Keiji away from the mirror. He had to unclench Keiji’s iron grip from the sink, but after that he carefully guided the setter away from the mirror, out of the bathroom. The halls were empty, the students back in class. How long had Keiji been inside there?

 

There was a lump in his throat as Koutarou led him to the boy’s locker room, but his usual safe space didn’t have much of a positive effect. Keiji let out a shaky breath as Koutarou sat him down on one of the benches.

 

“You’re missing class.” Keiji could only murmur softly-- he was afraid of his voice cracking again if he spoke any louder.

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Koutarou shook his head, staring intensely. “Bad day?”

 

Keiji nodded slowly. “Bad day.” He paused, fingers clenched in his lap as he repeated his question. “How can you like me when I’m like… when I’m like this?” He gestured to himself with an unhappy expression.

 

“Keiji, I like you with or without makeup.” Koutarou reached out to wipe away some of the tears on his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m being 100% honest when I say it. I think you’re lovely whether or not you have on some makeup, I just want you to be happy.” Keiji had closed his eyes, and his body was shaking with the force of his muffled sobs. “Do you want to go home?”

 

Keiji nodded. Koutarou gave him a moment to calm down, kissing his cheek and letting the other boy grip onto his hand tightly. Koutarou stood, both his and Keiji’s bag on his shoulders, and guided his boyfriend from the locker room.

 

Keiji’s eyes felt puffy and swollen, and his head was throbbing, and despite his best attempts he still felt dampness on his cheeks. But with Koutarou by his side, things were a bit more bearable.

**Author's Note:**

> i have finally caught up bless
> 
> still not sure if im gonna do free day though, depends on my exams i guess
> 
> anyways man i just cant seem to write anything positive smh but i hope you liked this!!
> 
> please point out any errors and feel free to talk to me on tumblr!! (iwxchxn.tumblr.com)


End file.
